Bantering with Satan
by torazee
Summary: TRORY.  What should have happened after Tristan's near confession on S1 The Third Lorelai.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I do not own anything from Gilmore Girls. **

**Author's Note: This is my very first fanfiction ever so be kind and please review. This is also only the intro chapter. Just wait for the juicy stuff.**

Rory Gilmore was trying to concentrate. She really was. In fact, if anybody had been looking at her, as it happens at least one was, they would've assumed she was being the faultless student she always was. But Rory had felt his gaze and brushes of his fingertips for the last 45 minutes of a 55 minute class period. Her attention wasn't on the notes that she appeared to be perusing. Her thoughts were on the Spawn of Satan directly behind her.

Tristan Dugrey was the bane of Rory's existence. He tormented her; teasing and taunting her, calling her Mary, while still maintaining his appeal to the majority of female student body at Chilton. One look cast with those piercing blue eyes and he would have almost any girl up against a locker with their lips and bodies fused together. More often than not it just happened to be the locker belonging to a certain other blue-eyed individual. While Rory usually wouldn't waste her time thinking about someone as incorrigible as Tristan, she had found herself thinking about him more than usual. Now, though, he was especially hard to ignore when she could practically feel his heated breath on her neck.

He had stunned her with the words almost said after a rigorous group meeting and a presumably more rigorous date with Paris. Rory was naïve, however, and did not firmly grasp his attempts at a blunt confession. She knew she was a game to him, a worthless conquest only to become a joke at a party full of drunken Chiltonites in expensive houses and brand name clothing. That was a whole other world for Rory, yet a constant atmosphere for Tristan. Her attempt at penetrating that world was the start of the feelings Rory was experiencing.

The words he had said after Rory orchestrated a failing date with Paris had indeed made Rory feel guilty. She hadn't even stopped to think that he may not yet be over Summer Harwood. Although she was clueless as to why he would even "date" her to begin with. Nevertheless, the breakup at the Chilton party was dramatic and quite the scene. Rory _had_ felt guilty. Then that Monday after the disastrous date, things were back to normal with her constant tormentor.

Rory was in study hall trying to use the time wisely but Tristan was at it again. He deliberately sat right behind her and stared. _The entire class period. _His gaze was accompanied by the feather light touches of his surprisingly warm hands. Keeping the shivers down was the hardest thing to control. She couldn't take it. She could feel the hotness of his breath from what she knew were his full, smirking lips.

"Brrriiinnnggg!" the bell sounded.

Rory breathed a sigh of relief and began packing up when she suddenly froze.

Tristan swooped down. his lips brushing against her ear and whispered, "See you tomorrow, Mary." Then, smirking, he winked at her and walked out of the classroom pen in his mouth.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: I do not own Gilmore Girls.**

**Author's Note: The kiss on the piano bench did happen, Rory's not dating Dean at the moment, Paris is already editor of the paper. Any further info will be provided in these notes before the chapter. So I suggest you read them. **

It was a Friday and Rory was looking forward to another weekend away from the Hell disguised as a preparatory school. Her encounters with Tristan were still filled with sexual innuendos from him and scathing brush offs from her.

The fact was he got under her skin and challenged her like she'd never been before. Sure, Paris was academically her competition. But Rory knew if Tristan put as much time in to his studies as he did in to picking up girls, he could've been at least right behind Paris and herself.

As it was, he didn't, and instead had her mind constantly engaged in coming up with comebacks to match his in their bantering. Rory would never admit it but she liked their bantering to a certain point. Just like she would never admit that Tristan was attractive in every way that most girls had eagerly admitted already.

"Gilmore!"

Rory almost dropped the books she'd currently been getting out of her locker.

"Paris," Rory greeted.

"No time, you need to move!" Paris said frantically. "Look, our computers we were using for the Franklin crashed and as you know our layout was completed and supposed to be on its way to print today. If we want the paper to go out as planned, like it has for decades past, someone needs to fix this. NOW!" she screamed.

"I'm sorry, Paris," Rory began calmly, "besides it being Friday, the job of layout was appointed to the editor by the editor which is you. In fact, you insisted that you do it yourself because you didn't trust anyone to even offer their input. Now, why exactly do _I_ have to do anything? You can do it yourself like you always do."

Paris sighed and Rory thought she saw a flicker of sadness or defeat in her eyes.

"I can't do it at all, okay? If you must know, there's some meeting with my parents to settle some last minute details of their divorce. God only knows why I have to be there. It seems everyone is too incompetent to handle things such as keeping computers in functioning form! All you have to do is get the articles from the main server in the English room, and I already asked Mr. Hensley to let you use his computer in his office for the final layout. I need you to stay after and fix this. Decades, Gilmore!"

Rory sighed heavily. I mean it was Friday. But, she cared about the Franklin and she felt bad for Paris. Sighing again she answered, "Fine, Paris. Consider it done."

Relief jumped into the ambitious girl's body and eyes. It was quickly juxtaposed with a final, "Don't screw it up, Gilmore."

With that, she stalked off down

'Great,' Rory thought. 'Exactly how I planned to spend my evening. This is going to take forever.'

She scoffed, "All you have to do my foot," she mumbled and closed her locker.

The hallway was now completely clear as the last plaid skirt whipped out of sight through a side entrance down the hall from her locker.

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Rory languorously stretched in her uncomfortable plastic computer chair. Her tie was loosened, sleeves rolled up halfway on her untucked shirt, and she her blazer hung on the back of her chair. Getting the articles from everyone's individual files took forever. She still had quite a few to do and she was seriously coffee deprived.

It wasn't as if she could leave with no car so she opted for getting some kind of beverage from one of the vending machines. Rory left the suffocating computer lab into the halls of Chilton turning down a hall near the cafeteria.

Standing in front of the vending machine, she bit her lip in thought and decided on a coke to get come caffeine in her system. Just as she was reaching to put her quarters in the slot a pair of lips were familiarly at her ear.

"Hey, Mary." Tristan said huskily.

Rory spun around and gasped audibly. Standing before her was a sweaty, indescribably hot Tristan in a clinging wife beater and black shorts. She always knew he was attractive, I mean she wasn't blind. It was just that his personality always seemed to overcome any passing thoughts on his looks. But now, her mind seemed to forget about his taunting remarks and her body was automatically responding to the sight of him. Her eyes took on a life of their own as they followed his body. His legs were muscular and tan and the wife beater he was wearing did nothing to hide his perfectly sculpted abs. Her eyes slowly went up to inspect his full, slightly parted lips, and past the chiseled features of his face to meet his slightly surprised, though very intrigued blue orbs. _He was gorgeous._

And apparently very aware of the fact that she had just blatantly and thoroughly checked him out. Once blue on blue connected, the lips she had been admiring half a second ago curled in smirk.

"Well…isn't this interesting." He said.

"What are you doing here, Tristan?" Rory was embarrassed. She was not the kind of girl to check guys out like that – especially Tristan Dugrey. It was absolutely mortifying that he caught her.

Tristan watched as a fiery red bloomed across her cheeks like a flower. "I'm just enjoying the view, same as you. As much as I like you when your uniform's perfectly done up, I think I prefer it a bit…looser…like it is now." His voice got lower with the completion of his sentence and he stepped a bit closer. "You see, it makes it so much easier to get off."

Rory told herself to just ignore the comment. What had she been asking him?

"Since when do you stay after on a Friday? I imagine you have a very important party to get to."

"Well, Miss Gilmore, you know what they say about assuming. As a matter of fact I had soccer practice." He said as he lifted the bottom of his wife beater to wipe his brow.

He was doing it on purpose, she knew he had to be. Because as good as they looked from an outline, his six pack was to die for. Dean was cute, nice, sweet. He didn't have the body of a movie star but he was good looking. Tristan was…_god_…

Rory tugged on her skirt refusing to let herself get distracted again. She felt a verbal sparring match coming on and she had to be on top of her game. She inwardly cringed at the unintended innuendo. That was his forte, not hers.

"Really? But doesn't a sport like that increase the risk of messed up hair?"

He merely chuckled. "You play any sports Mary?"

She scoffed, "God no, I hate exercise."

He raised one eyebrow suggestively, "Oh, so you like to watch?"

"Nope," she yawned, "too boring, like talking to you."

"Aw, now I'm not boring. You could ask any one of the lovely ladies who have had the pleasure of my company. Or, I could show you just how fun I can be."

With that he pushed his body into hers with a force that sent her tumbling against the vending machine. Rory couldn't breathe, think, or move. He smelled delicious and she hated him for it. She hated that he would annoy her to death one minute, be sweet the next, and then tempt her after that.

"One day, Mary…I gave you a preview on that piano bench, but I can do so much more." He licked her earlobe but before he could back away, Rory shoved him with all her might and he hit the wall on the other side of the hallway.

She was furious. They hadn't talked about that night. They had both been vulnerable and the way he'd just described it. It was like he'd given her the privilege of tasting him. It was him exhibiting his huge ego to her once again. It was Friday, she still had work to do, she was talking to Bible Boy, and then for a split second she had wanted him. Wanted him to kiss her or hold her or something more intimate than either. It infuriated her.

His look was pure shock and incredulity.

"I am not one of the bimbos trailing after you," she hissed with venom soaking her words. "You think you are so much better than everyone else. That anything you have to offer should be sought after and worshipped. Even if no one else in this stupid, pretentious school feels the same way I do, it doesn't matter. I don't care what your last name is or what kind of car you drive. You want someone who insists on being able to attach the word 'rich' to the title of boyfriend then don't bother me. Go find someone else."

She saw a mixture of anger and annoyance flash in his eyes to accompany his surprise.

"You know what princess? You rag on me for thinking I'm so much better than anyone when you're the one making judgments and generalizations about people. You don't know me so don't pretend to. Why don't you go back to doing all your school work and polishing your halo." His words stung her. He'd never been angry with her like this. It made her even angrier at him.

"I'll go back to putting effort in to things that require thinking while you go back to kicking around a ball and then back to your Porsche where you no doubt have some idiot girl ready and willing. Well, only as soon as she found out you had a Porsche."

"Yeah, I'm sure there are at least three girls waiting for me when I'm done here. How are you and Bagboy?" he replied scathingly.

"Oh shut up!" she yelled. She didn't care if it wasn't clever. She whipped around and started storming back to the computer lab.

"Yeah, right back at ya!" he yelled to her retreating figure.


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: I do not own Gilmore Girls.**

**Author's Note: Sorry, longer wait than I had hoped. I took a spur of the moment trip and haven't been within a computer in…well…too long of a time. I'd like more reviews please! I need to know if I should even continue. Also, sorry about the chapters being all different lengths so far. The first was kind of a prologue, the second had some action, and this one is more the thoughts during the aftermath. I'm still trying to decide on chapter lengths but I just wanted to get one out since it's been a while.**

Rory slammed her front door behind her and marched in to the kitchen.

"Mom!" she yelled on her way. She received no response.

"Mom! Where are you?" Nothing but silence.

The irate high schooler turned on the coffee pot, threw her stuff in her room, and went to the answering machine. There was a new message.

"Hey sweets," her mothers affectionate voice sounded, "I have some bad news, some good news, and some more bad news. There was a pipe burst at the inn and it's a mess and I have to supervise due to the delicate nature of Michel and Toban's relationship, until someone can come fix it. The good news is that it gave me an idea for a career option instead of that pesky journalism thing. Drum roll please….a PLUMBER! I know, genius, right. It would solve my problem, you like shiny things, and you have a great butt for that plumber's crack. I mean it, your hiney is excellent. You would get overpaid just for that cute little thing sticking out from under someone's sink – AH!"

Rory heard a loud squishing sound.

"Too many wet things. Damn water to hell – and pipes – damn them too! Anyways, the other bad news is I will not be able to make it to the elegant kegger at the grandparents. Sorry, hun, you're on your own. Please don't hate me. I complimented your hiney and I birthed you! Love you doll. Money's under the rabbi and the jeep's at your disposal."

Rory groaned and went to pour herself a cup of coffee.

'Well this is just fan-frickin'-tastic,' she thought. 'Had to stay after on a Friday, fought with the Spawn of Satan, and am now going to dinner with Grandma and Grandpa alone.'

According to Rory, it was all Tristan's fault. Regardless of the fact that he was not Paris and had nothing to do with the computer crashes and he did not cause the pipe burst at the Dragonfly.

Well, those were the facts that would have entered the girl's mind if she'd been thinking rationally. Rory was tired, and extremely irritated, and smidge shocked. Tristan had never spoken to her like that. Not ever. Sure he'd teased her and called her Mary, but it was always good naturedly. He seemed genuinely pissed…at _her_.

She didn't want to admit it, she hated to admit it…but it hurt. She didn't really know him, she'd admit that. But she honestly didn't think she was better than anyone. Not consciously. She was just very different from anyone at that school. _Especially_ Tristan Dugrey.

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Tristan was pissed. More pissed than he had ever been. The only competitor was after Madeline's party. Even then, it was more that his pride and feelings were bruised. He grabbed the pillow from behind his head on his bed and flung it across the room. The action surprisingly released a thwacking sound as the pillow hit his closet doors.

Tristan was laying on his bed of high thread count navy silk and Egyptian cotton sheets. He kept clenching and unclenching his fists thinking about the scenario by the vending machine only a couple hours before. 'Why did she get to him? Why did he insist on bothering her?'

He knew the answer.

Rory Gilmore was unlike anyone he had ever met. She was smart, unknowingly sexy, stubborn, and witty. She resisted his charm and his status. She just didn't care about those things – about him. It drew him to her.

'God,' he thought, 'I'm a masochist.'

He thought about how she bit her lip when she was thinking or concentrating. God how he wanted to do it for her. He pictured her reading one of her many beloved books, impatiently tucking her hair behind her ears. Her ears…her ears were something he stared at constantly during class. He pictured biting, sucking, nibbling on the soft flesh trying to elicit a moan from her plush lips. Oh if he could just get her to moan his name he would die a happy man.

Tristan shook his head and pinched his eyes shut. It didn't help; it made it worse. The pictures were more vivid.

He didn't know how he felt about her. Maybe it was just an unquenched lust yet to be satisfied. She was the only girl to ever turn him down. He didn't do commitment. If the opportunity ever arose to do the relationship thing with her…well…that would be an interesting day.

His mind wandered back to the argument they had had. He went over the words she spoke – screamed at him and again he seethed with anger. That girl had no clue what the fuck she was talking about. She didn't know him. She hated him. And he hated her.


End file.
